


verbatim

by konoki



Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Pico's School (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Gen, Songfic, Survivor Guilt, mentions of bf and gf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoki/pseuds/konoki
Summary: c'mon, humble my bones with a cardiac
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	verbatim

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i am back from my my hiatus !!  
> i have never written a songfic and/or a character study before but i hope i did it correctly hhh  
> anyways!!
> 
> this fanfiction contains:  
> .mature topics  
> .mentions of violence and blood
> 
> please click off of this content makes you uncomfortable. stay safe!

_I live by a hospital_

_and every day I go out walking past it's sickly windows_

_I see people dying there_

_but my tender age makes it hard to care_

Pico didn't grow up as a normal kid. To say he had to mentally mature much faster than his peers would be an understatement. While most kids his age where having play dates and wondering what their parents would pack them for lunch the next day, Pico watched the life drained from his peer's eyes as their crimsom blood stained the floors and walls. Scrambling and fearing for his life, he would eventually take the gun in the janitors closet with trembling hands and end up taking the lives of his classmate, Cassandra, and her cult of rejects. 

Ever since then, whatever innocence Pico still held onto was gone. 

He wasn't treated as a normal kid since then. Whenever teachers and his classmates would talk to him, they treated him differently. Their voice would always get quiet and they would act as if they were on thin ice around him. He hated it. To make matters worse, strangers with cameras and microphones would interview and always ask him questions he could've sworn they knew the answer to. The countless of hours he would also spend, sitting in a room as an adult would take notes about him, ask him questions, and prescribe him medication. He would never be able to get his childhood back and he hated it. It just wasn't fair. He never understood why he was one of the only ones that survived. How come he got to live while his classmates writhed in agony at their gunshot wounds? His classmates had futures. Some were gifted and already had plans about their futures. Where as some of his classmates would kind and comforting to be around. Pico didn't think he had anything special or different about him. After all, the only reason he was spared is because Cassandra had a crush on him. 

As most of the adults in his life expected, he would grow up to be trouble. His paranoia only increased as he got older with reason. The cult that he killed wanted him dead. At least that's what he believed. Pico had became a completely different person. He would get involved with underage drinking and illegal drugs. He would drop out of school and constantly be on the move. He carried a gun with him where ever he went and wasn't afraid to show it off. Although, deep down he was terrified to use it again. He thought after awhile the nightmares would go away. He thought when he got older, he wouldn't have to be afraid to go to bed. He thought the screaming and flashbacks would go away. They never did. Even when he would wake up, he would swear that he could see his classmates and those he killed hidden in the corners of his room. Some were completely decayed. Some had maggots crawling through them as their skin began to peel away. He would see some with body fluids and blood oozing from their eyes and nose. Sometimes, he would even see some stiff with fresh bullet wounds littering their chest. Despite the years that passed, he thought that he would be desensitized to it by now. He couldn't have been more wrong. 

Eventually, he would walk around like he was a god. It was all a facade, of course. But Pico would try to fake it until he made it. He began to develop a cocky and delinquent behavior. He would challenge whatever being was out their to take his life. Pulling the trigger on his gun became easier for him and he almost became desensitized to violence, death, and blood. Almost.

Life would eventually lead him to a train station. A girl with red hair and a boy with electric blue hair stood there, waiting for him. At the train station, under orders of a mysterious man who paid him handsomely, he would pick up a microphone. The beat began and Pico smirked. 

_Incinerator and a big smoke stack._

_It's a phallic symbol and it makes me laugh._

_All I need is a heart attack._

_C'mon, humble my bones with a Cardiac._


End file.
